I read these words by these thin little things, who are still so sick, but don't believe it. "I miss my eating disorder," they write, desperate to win back the only friend they've ever had. Little do they realize that they no longer recognize that dear friend's presence because it has become one with themselves.
I don't understand how anyone could miss that life. I know I don't. There are days I miss the relief, the silence, the way my clothes hung from my frame. But, there is not a single moment of life I would ever want to live under the thumb of this disorder ever again. And, I say that not to be cocky, or even confident. I say it because it amazes me, because it amazes me that it's true, coming from my own mouth, a mouth that, only a year ago, was too busy bent over the toilet to remember it had any other purpose.
I chose the life of starvation and bones because I did not know how to choose anything else. Because it gave me strength and safety in ways I had never, ever known and will most likely never know again. But, that previous safety and strength now display themselves quite clear to me as very dangerous and life-threatening. I starved to turn inwards, to reach deep within myself, to find my center. I failed to realize that by turning inward, I would fall backwards, because the darkness masked my eyes. I purged to violently acknowledge my body, my faults, my past. Because I wanted scars, I wanted to ache, bleed, rot. Everything I had, everything I was, felt like too much to handle and too much to love. I just wanted to vomit until I saw nothing, until I felt nothing but numbness. Until I felt the absence of pain, sorrow, anguish, suffering. But, the more I purge, the worse the pain and the agony and the sadness became. What I thought would silence the demons only served to make them louder. How foolish. How contradictory. How predictable.
I am above who I was. I am above all that I have done because I no longer do it. I took my head out of the toilet and I got off my knees. I stopped praying to the porcelain god that so controlled me and sought, instead, internal faith in my self, in my spirit. I woke up from the nightmare and got dressed, and got to work.
I am proud. I am happy. And, I am amazed. Still. Everyday. Every second.